


An Unexpected Tradition

by flibbertygigget



Series: An Unexpected Universe [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Forgiveness, Gen, Kid Fic, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: “Here we are,” Severus said quietly. If they had come at Halloween, there would have been magical lights set up to guide their way to that famous grave, hundreds of flowers lining the way. On Christmas Eve there was only silence, a nonverbal Lumos, and a gentle light illuminating the words they all knew by heart.Or: New acquaintance and auld acquaintance meet for auld lang syne.





	An Unexpected Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Une tradition inattendue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290940) by [Matteic_FR (Matteic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matteic/pseuds/Matteic_FR)



Traveling with two eight-year-olds to tow was always a chore, and one that was only made negligibly easier by magic. Last time he had apparated them all, Dudley had puked, but with the way things were going it didn’t look as though the Knight Bus was going to be any better. It just figured that Harry would reveal a propensity for carsickness when they were on the rockiest form of transport known to wizards.

“Why can’t we have hot chocolate?” Dudley said for the fourth time.

“You’ll ruin your clothes,” Petunia said, as prim as ever.

“Besides, the stuff here is vile,” Severus said. “We can make some proper cocoa when we get back.” Dudley rolled his eyes, but he seemed to be mollified by that promise. Petunia, on the other hand, was smirking at him. “What?”

“You’re going soft.” Severus shrugged.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he said.

They arrived in Godric’s Hollow with a bang and a cheerful goodbye from the conductor. Severus knew that the boys would run off to look at the Muggle houses and their fairy lights if given half a chance, so he grabbed Dudley’s hand and the hood of Harry’s coat before they got a chance. Harry pouted at him for a moment before relenting and taking Severus’s other hand.

> _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
>  _and never brought to mind?_  
>  _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
>  _and auld lang syne?_

 “The service must be just wrapping up,” Petunia said. Severus nodded. He could feel Harry twisting to stare at the giant statue of the Potters that dominated the middle of the square, but he kept his own eyes resolutely forward. He wasn’t here for that, he wasn’t even really here for Lily. He was here because he knew that the boys needed to understand how they had gotten to where they were, as far as that was possible. Petunia as well, as much as she hated to admit it.

They made their way into the graveyard and down the well-kept path. If they had come at Halloween, there would have been magical lights set up to guide their way to that famous grave, hundreds of flowers lining the way. On Christmas Eve there was silence, broken only by the sound of their boots breaking through the crust of the snow.

“Here we are,” Severus said quietly. He disentangled one of his hands to cast a nonverbal Lumos, the gentle light illuminating the words he knew by heart.

To his surprise, Petunia was the one to move first, untying the brown paper package that she’d been trying to hide the whole ride in. The first year, Severus had nearly broken down the moment he saw the grave, and last year the boys had grown bored and started playing around the headstones. Both times Petunia had stood and looked after the boys but done nothing more.

“Here,” she said, a bit stiffly. The brown paper was pulled away to reveal a small wreath of holly, the green boughs and red berries standing out starkly against the pure white of the grave. Severus couldn’t see clearly, but he was certain that Petunia was holding back tears. “I suppose…” She broke off, pressing her lips into a firm line. “Well. You know what I mean.” Severus didn’t know for sure, but he thought that maybe he did.

Severus took the mixture of red poppies and white roses from his coat pocket, restoring them to their original size with a flick of his wand. The first year they had done this, he had dithered over what to bring, wanting it to be perfect. Now… well, it wasn’t as though it mattered less. He still couldn’t go a year without crying. But the message of the poppies and roses, the red and white, were so engrained now that it felt right.

Remembrance. Remembrance of a warrior, an innocent, a friend. With such eloquent flowers, what more needed to be said?

He could feel Dudley and Harry growing restless beside him, probably already thinking about the promised hot chocolate. Usually he would have been more than happy to lead them back to Spinners End and out of the biting cold, but he had another grave to visit tonight.

“You can go on ahead,” he muttered to Petunia. She gave him a curious look. “I have something I need to do.”

“Not by yourself, you don’t,” Petunia said. “Besides, it’s not as if I can call the bus here myself.” Severus wanted nothing more than to tell her that he didn’t need a bloody audience for this, but something stopped him. If she wanted to expose the boys to his baggage, well, she was Dudley’s mum and Harry’s aunt. It was none of his business what she’d have to explain to them later.

The second grave took him a few minutes to find. He hadn’t seen it since its owner had been put in the ground, hadn’t had any desire to. Eventually he found it, tucked away in a less cared for corner of the graveyard. For a moment he just stared, lost in thought as he pondered the words that he’d had no hand in choosing.

_Eileen Prince Snape_  
_6 th August 1945 – 18th December 1977_  
_The one who endures to the end will be saved._

 

“Whose grave is that, Uncle Sev?” Harry asked, ignoring Petunia’s attempts to hush him. Dudley stopped wriggling and suddenly looked very interested himself.

“My mum’s,” Severus said, and somehow saying it aloud made it seem more real. He took the other flowers from his coat pocket, the ones he had brought just in case and never intended to leave, and enlarged them as well.

Purple carnations. While he would probably always have mixed feelings about his mum, who’d loved too much to raise her wand even when his father was in one of his drunken rages, there was no reason why he couldn’t leave this… forgiveness? Apology? Maybe both.

“You have a mum?” Dudley said, sounding fascinated.

“Everyone has a mum at some point,” Severus said. “That is simple biology.”

“Then why haven’t we seen her before?” Dudley asked. “We see Harry’s mum here, and we see Mum’s mum and dad every Easter.”

“I suppose I wasn’t ready to see her yet,” Severus said. Harry nodded seriously.

“Like with my dad,” he said. Severus closed his eyes and swallowed down the bitterness there.

“Maybe a bit,” he admitted. “Perhaps… Perhaps you can ask Professor Minerva about your dad when she comes over tomorrow.” Harry and Dudley both seemed happy with that. The boys started their usual routine of running through the headstones towards the gate, but Petunia stayed behind, looking at him with the strangest look on her face.

“Severus Snape, letting go of a grudge,” she muttered to him. “Should I be checking my tea for illicit potions?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Severus said, standing and brushing the snow from his knees. And then, softer, so that he knew Harry wouldn’t hear, “It’s not some petty grudge and I’m not letting go. That doesn’t mean the boy can’t hear the good bits from someone who remembers them.”

“The good bits,” Petunia said, sounding wistful. “Is that what you’ve been telling them about _her_?”

“What do you think?” he said defensively. He might have continued, but that was when the voices of the eight-year-olds came from by the old iron gate

“Mum! Uncle Sev! You promised hot cocoa!” Dudley shouted.

“Yeah! Come on, Uncle Sev!” Severus looked over at Petunia, amused.

“Well,” he said. “Duty calls, I suppose.” Turning their backs to the tombstones, the little family of four made their way out of the graveyard and past the church, the sounds of a choir still following them through the snowy Christmas Eve air.

> _And there's a hand my trusty friend._  
>  _And take my hand in thine._  
>  _And we'll take a draught o’ kindness yet,_  
>  _for auld lang syne._
> 
> _For auld lang syne, my dear,_  
>  _for auld lang syne,_  
>  _we'll take a cup of kindness yet,_  
>  _for auld lang syne._


End file.
